Will You Scream When You Let Go
by Dessmonda
Summary: Nations can't die. The only reason the older nations are not around anymore is simple. They are locked up and left to their own devices. Slowly being driven insane with no chance of escape.


A/N: Okay long over due I think. First kinkmeme deanon. I'm still iffy on this one but I did like how it came out in the end.

_Nations could not die per say not in the normal sense. Not in the once I die I will never breath again sense, because once a nation died their heart would start beating again and they would slowly recover. Normally this was a good thing, a nation could not die in battle or by accident. But when you had eternity to die or go insane then living forever poised a problem._

He sat their stoic and unmoving he had learned early on that doing anything did not help his situation. He could hear footsteps coming towards him, it was such a natural occurrence he didn't even look up when his door opened. There was a time when an open door would mean escape but that time had long passed. His door closed and he sat there, his eyes unopened thinking of his life before. For that was all he had to hold onto were his memories. And even those were slowly fleeting.

Nations could not die. They were not fragile and easily broken. And there lied their problem. Once the country they were representing ceased to exist they did not. They were left to live, slowly one start to feel empty as their people moved on and took a new identity with another nation. He could not remember how he got here, or where here was exactly, all he remembered was literally waking up in his cell. He was not alone; Rome was in the cell directly to his right having been brought here together.

They had made a plan to escape together. It was not hard they were left alone for the most part. Both him and Rome were given a weapon, a small dagger, and they used them to pick their cell locks and he took comfort knowing that he had a weapon. Though he was weary of it. Why would their captors just give them a weapon. He didn't dwell to long on that though, he couldn't dwell to long on that thought he needed to focus.

Once they were out of their cells they were able to see that there were two rows of cells, about ten on each side identical to one another. But there was no one else around. It was easy enough to escape from the cells no one was guarding the doorway leading to and from the cells and soon the two ancient nations discovered why. Their prison didn't need guards because there was a labyrinth guarding it. The maze of passageways could go on forever and one could easily get lost.

The two nations had a choice, go back into their cells and admit defeat or carry on and hope to find freedom. Wordlessly they both chose to press onwards, the hope of freedom awaiting them at the end too good to pass up. The hope of seeing their children again the only thing keeping them going as what they were sure were days passed. It soon became apparent that they would no be leaving through the labyrinth unescorted. Though neither nation wanted to give up, too stubborn to do so. They mostly passed the time in silence, though Rome sometimes blathered on about things Germania stopped caring to hear about.

The more they pressed on the more apparent it became that they were not leaving and the more depressed they became. Eventually they found an exit and before they could rejoice about their freedom they noticed that they had found their cells again. Upon closer inspection it was found to be a new group of cells like the ones they had left. It didn't seem that anyone had ever used these cells before. Now they had to make another choice. Press on and try to leave or except fate and stay here. There was no way to tell how long they had been wandering about for.

Germania was a warrior, and warriors did not give up without a fight. But they were also not fools and knew when they had been beaten. And whoever was holding them there had them beat. He picked a cell and slipped into it using his dagger which he was sure had another purpose to it. It was not meant for them to fend off an attack or escape. He would have to figure out what he could use it for later but for now he felt better knowing it was under his pillow.

It had occurred to him on numerous occasions to perhaps attack a guard or take one prisoner, but it seemed as though it didn't matter if a guard died. They still could not navigate the passageways and find a way out. He had tried to force a guard to show him the way out under the threat of death. The corpus hadn't been removed until a week after the incident as a show of power the captors had over their captives.

Soon they were able to gather that the prison was both very large and very underground. Him and Rome were not the only two prisoners. Many ancient nations who were 'dead' were also gathered here. No one knew by whom but what they were able to figure out was they could wander cell to cell but never leave. There was no way to mark the passage of time, so they weren't sure how long they had all been there for.

It became apparent that their captors were trying to break them. It wasn't that hard really. The stoic walls, lack of real light, and no way to tell time. Leaving them with each other and only their thoughts. They all drifted apart. In hindsight that was probably a bad idea. They could have leaned on each other but knowing what would help you through a tough situation wasn't always easy to act on. By drifting apart there was no one to lean on, nothing else to dwell on but your memories and thoughts.

All it took to break Rome was muttering that Italy was being united and one of the boys would soon be arriving. He went on for hours about who was possibly joining them in their own personal hell. He couldn't seem to settle on one boy over the other. Having reasons for each boy to stay and each boy to come here. He wasn't sure which one would be stronger, though he was sure that Romano wouldn't hesitate to save his baby brother. If he was even in a position to do so at all. Of course the boy never came, either one. Rome waited day after day slowing driving himself mad with anticipation. Always on the lookout for Italy Veneziano or Italy Romano. Germania was sure that was how they always intended to do it. Let him think one of his precious grandsons was joining them, with no intention of that ever happening. They were fickle like that. Always seemed to know what would break them the best. But he would not let himself be fooled by their games. Tales of their children also broke Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt. Ancient Greece's son was apparently taken in and being treated badly by the Ottoman Empire and there was nothing she could do about it. The guilt ate away at her, not having anything else to focus on. Egypt, the son of Ancient Egypt, according to rumors and tales spun by their captors, was not moving forward. Greece at least was able to move onwards but Egypt was reverting without his mother. His children were stronger they would never allow themselves to be perceived as vulnerable. They would move on without him because they had to. He would move on without them knowing they were safe because he had to. Even if it meant lying to himself.

The passage of time was hard to tell and it was very easy to get lost. There were no tell-tale signs, no sun or moon to go by. He had given up all together trying to figure out the period or even day. They were fed just enough every day and had the minimum of living requirements. It was enough to drive someone insane. Germania had fallen into a cycle of thinking and sleeping. Thinking because he could no longer sleep and sleeping because he could no longer think. His memories became painful, even the happy ones which slowly began to slip away.

"We will break you." They had said, it wasn't in angry voices or said in any sort of violent manner. It was the clam certainty that had him worried. It hadn't taken long to break the others, they all had weakness and they had tried the same tricks on him but his children were strong they would not break and he would not break.

He was woken up by the sound of his cell door opening. He caught a glimpse of someone leaving food on the table, breakfast he gathered by the fruit and toast, along with a small dagger. He had lost his other one, dropping it foolishly in one of the many passageways. "You might need it." Was all the voice said before wandering off, closing and locking the cell door. There was no point in escaping; they always found you in the end. Or you wandered back to them. They liked when that happened.

No it was customary to make sure that they had a dagger incase they decided they no longer could go on. In case they wanted to take the cowards way out. Which was pointless because they couldn't die. All the dagger did was permit them to die for a moment, a mere trickle in time for a nation. It didn't end the suffering permanently but perhaps having something that showed how powerless they truly were added to the power over them. There was no way they could leave. No way out.

They. The nameless enemy who held them here trapped for the rest of eternity, or until their nations were able to rise again, or at least that was what Rome had been hoping for before they broke him.

This was not something he would wish on anyone. Footsteps could be heard moving closer. More then just one set. Meant more then one person. Possibly a new captive.

He caught a glimpse of white hair. Red eyes met his briefly. One word passed between them. Vati.

His son. His son was strong. He could endure it.

He could endure it.

He wasn't sure whom he was referring to anymore.

The only thing crossing his mind as he laughed was they were right.

They had found a way to break him whether they knew it or not.

There was no way anyone was getting out.

No way anyone could endure this.

How could he sit here knowing just cells away one of his sons was enduring the same thing he had to.

They were right. They had found a way to break him.

Germania stared at his blood soaked sheets not even aware he had cut himself, looking at the blood run down his arm and spread out once it hit the sheet. He fell asleep to complete silence.

They always succumbed in the end. Some took longer then others and the one who had been called Germania had by far held out the longest. But even great empires come to an end.

The blood ran out of the ancient nation pooling around him. Soaking the sheets and covering the concrete floor.

He would wake again but the mere moments of blissful blackness that occurred die to the blood loss were worth it.

And when that happened it would be just him and his cell

Today just like tomorrow just like the day before

Never changing

The warrior who once entered the cell had left it

Leaving behind a broken mess of a nation

He had been wrong. the dagger had been placed there to help him escape.

It was the only way to escape his prison

To escape his mind

To escape the lies it had created

to escape the illusions and falsehoods

momentarily cease to exist

he welcomed it


End file.
